


One, Two, Three

by whatfandom



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Abuse, Breakup, M/M, POV First Person, Poetry, brendon's pov, post spilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:19:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1735946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatfandom/pseuds/whatfandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A poem about Ryden. Each stanza represents a new stage of ryden. (That's the best summary I can think of so sorry).</p>
            </blockquote>





	One, Two, Three

Stolen kisses:  
where no one can see them  
one,  
two,  
three kisses.  
I tell no one,  
because you don't like boys.  
Isn't that right, Ryan Ross?  
I gave you my heart,  
and you gave it back:  
broken.  
I have the right to be bitter.

Small kisses on stage,  
we're in front of thousands of people now,  
but you grin as I place my lips against your cheek.  
You pluck your guitar  
one,   
two,  
three notes-  
and a kiss.   
I kiss you because I can.  
Because Ryan Ross,   
you may like girls,  
but you like me too.  
You helped me patch up my heart again.  
You won’t break it this time.

You kissed me in front of your dad today-  
that didn't go so well.  
I told you as long as I have you  
you didn’t have to tell him.  
He kicked me out   
and nearly beat you to death.  
We had to cancel a show,  
one,  
two,  
three shows.  
Is that why you always wear makeup?  
I helped patch up your broken skin.  
I will never treat you this way.

No more kisses-  
“I’m straight, Brendon,”  
That’s what you told me.  
I kept waiting,  
one,  
two,  
three. Nothing.  
You left the band today,  
just like you left me.  
You and Jon.  
You left.  
Spence wouldn't go with you.   
He said you were being an ass,  
and you were.  
You left me alone.  
With nothing.  
You-  
You fucking asshole.

You texted Spencer today.   
“Me and Jon want to come back,” it said.  
“Tell Brendon I love him,” you said.   
I won’t pick up your calls.   
It’s been  
one,  
two,  
three years.  
It’s been three years, Ryan.  
It’s too late.  
I’m married now.  
I’ll never love anyone like I love you.  
Loved. Past tense.  
I wish that was true. 

Even five years later.  
You’re not exactly subtle about it.  
I’m not exactly subtle either.   
Everyone knows how much I hate you.  
You broke my heart twice.  
I won’t let you do it again.   
Once was enough,   
once you helped me pick up the pieces.  
One,  
two,  
three times.  
You won’t get a third time.


End file.
